


Not A Christmas Present

by littleboxesofstars



Category: IT (2017)
Genre: (i mean richie's in the fic so that's a given), Aged-Up Character(s), Explicit Language, Kissing, M/M, Tooth-Rotting Fluff
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-12-12
Updated: 2017-12-12
Packaged: 2019-02-13 18:23:46
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,729
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12989883
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/littleboxesofstars/pseuds/littleboxesofstars
Summary: Richie has something he wants to say to Stan, but can't seem to find the right time. Or: snowball fights, gifts, and a few first I love you's.





	Not A Christmas Present

**Author's Note:**

> I understand that Stan is Jewish and I definitely would have liked to make this fic more centered around Hanukkah, but as an uneducated non-Jewish person I was more afraid of trying to do research and getting things wrong, so I went with this instead. But it’s really not about the holidays, just two boys in love and wrapped up in every romantic winter cliche there is.

Richie reached up, a plastic bit of mistletoe in one hand and a piece of tape in the other, the rest of the tape roll in between his teeth as he taped the mistletoe to the top of Stan’s doorframe. It was the day before Christmas, and he had a present for his boyfriend.

Yes, Stan was Jewish, and if Richie really had his shit together he would have gotten him the gift in time for Hanukkah, but having his shit together wasn’t really something Richie was good at. He’d given Stan little gifts on all eight of the days, but they’d been small and inexpensive; he’d been saving his money from his part time job at the university bookstore for a big, special present, thinking he’d know the thing he was looking for when he saw it. And finally he had, buying and wrapping the special gift yesterday. Part of him did want to wait for any day that wasn’t Christmas Eve to give it to him for the sake of religious sensitivity, but at the same time had no self control, and was much too excited to just give Stan his present. So he was going to give it to him, and avoid the word Christmas.

He had it all planned out. He was going to kiss Stan, give him the silver swallow necklace, and tell him he loved him. He just had to get this stupid piece of mistletoe to stay taped to the door first. It took a couple of tries to make sure the fake plant wouldn’t fall, but when it was finally up there he knocked on the door.

“Coming!” The shout was muffled but Richie recognized his boyfriend’s voice all the same, an excited smile growing on his face. Then the door swung open and Stan was there, dressed for the snowy weather, wearing a scarf, thick coat, and boots, his brown hair curling out from around the edges of his beanie.

“Hey.” He said, standing in the doorway and smiling at him, and Richie honest-to-god forgot to breathe for a moment, shaking his head and reminding himself that he’d been dating this perfect boy for over a year; he should be used to this breathtaking shit by now. He wasn’t.

Stan took a step through the doorway, and Richie grinned.

“Gotcha.” He said. “You have to kiss me now.”

Stan’s eyebrows tilted in confusion.

“Excuse me?”

Richie pointed up at the mistletoe above the door. Stan crossed his arms and raised his eyebrows.

“Richie, did you tape the mistletoe to the doorway?”

“No! What would give you that idea?”

“...you have a roll of tape in your hand.”

“Oh, shit.” Richie tucked the tape in his jacket pocket, squeezing it in next to the jewelry box , and despite himself Stan did look a little amused. “Either way, you know the rules. Pucker up, buttercup.”

“Nope.” Stan said simply, closing his door behind himself and starting down the porch steps. Richie hurried after him, the snow crunching under his boots as he went.

“What do you mean, nope?”

“I mean nope, trashmouth. That's a Christmas thing. I’m Jewish. Mistletoe means nothing to me.” They began to walk, Stan reaching over and taking Richie’s hand.

“Okay, no mistletoe then.” Richie allowed, threading their fingers together. “A hello kiss?”

Stan considered him for a moment.

“No.”

“Why not? Come on Stan, please? Pretty please? Pretty, pretty please with a cherry on top? And a real cherry, not those bright red ones that come on ice cream because you hate those kind, even though they’re sugary and delicious.”

“No.”

“What? But I'm begging you! I thought you liked it when I begged.”

Stan’s blush was caused by more than the chilly weather and Richie grinned a little, hoping he’d gained a bit of leverage. He stepped in front of Stan, leaning in, but he got completely swerved.

“Stanley…” Richie drew out the vowels in complaint. “What’s going on?”

“I’d like to ask you the same thing. I can tell that something is up, Tozier. You’re trying to trick me into kissing you, which means you're going to try and pull some stupid joke.”

“You don’t trust me?”

“No, I trust you. But your jokes? Not so much.”

Richie couldn’t do much more than shrug. That was fair. He'd played enough jokes on Stanley during their nineteen years of existence for a healthy skepticism to be acceptable, even if it was throwing a complete wrench in his plans. But this wasn't a joke. It was a necklace, and love, and Richie wanted his first “I love you” to Stan to be perfect, deciding he would just have to get the kiss later.

They reached the neighborhood park and began climbing the hill, gripping each other and laughing when the other one slipped. They were going up there to watch the sunset, a habit they'd picked up a couple of months into their relationship. They'd started it so Stan could birdwatch without Richie getting bored, but Maine was too cold in the winter, and most of the birds had flown away.

As they reached the crest of the hill, Stan voiced his annual complaint about the lack of avian wildlife, and Richie laughed.

“You say that every year.” He pointed out. “Sounds like we gotta move somewhere tropical. Where it's warm all the time and you can put toucans in your bird book and stuff.”

“I don't know about tropical.” Stan countered. “I like the snow. Though I could go for some warmth right about now.”

Richie took it upon himself to warm Stan up the best he could, standing behind him and wrapping his arms around his waist, both of their hands together in Stan's jacket pockets. He rested his head on Stan's shoulder and they watched as the sun sank below the horizon, streaks of orange, pink, and purple cast across the sky. It was quite pretty, and Richie found himself wondering if Stan would kiss him now. He felt that all the disentangling they would have to do might ruin the moment though, waiting until the sun was down and night began to settle. He let Stan go, about to ask when Stan shivered violently, and Richie couldn't help but laugh.

“Wow Stan, was that a new dance move?”

“I told you I was cold!”

“Then let's go back to your place. I know all the right ways to warm you up.” He winked, and Stan grinned a little.

“Yeah?” He bent towards the snow but held eye contact, his tone light and teasing. “What would you do to me?”

Richie was so busy trying not to choke on his own tongue--goddamn, Stan could break him so easily--that he didn't notice Stan packing together a snowball until it was too late, straightening as he threw, hitting Richie hard in the chest. Acting affronted was a quick and easy way to save face so that's what Richie did, letting his mouth fall open. He stooped and picked up some snow as well, putting together a misshapen snowball of his own. He had a snowball fight to win.

Stan grinned, giving an excited little laugh as he darted off down the hill. Richie chased after him, hitting him square in the back. They fought all the way down the hill, Stan laughing every time he hit Richie in the head, which was a surprisingly high number. Richie liked to think he gave as good as he got, thanking his superior Street Fighter skills.

When Stan came to the bottom of the hill he stopped to stand his ground, a giant fistfull of snow in one hand. Richie descended on him with a yell and they collided, toppling over onto the frozen ground. Their winter coats provided some padding but it still hurt, Richie wincing and groaning a little before he'd managed to get his bearings.

He'd landed completely on Stanley, chest to chest and nearly nose to nose. Stan's entire face was pink from cold, his hair wet with snow and his eyes bright, and he was so beautiful that all Richie wanted was to kiss him, feeling a nervous tug in his stomach. This the moment he was waiting for.

Richie leaned down for the kiss but Stan's arm came up to meet him, that fistful of snow still in his hand, and he shoved the freezing wet mass down Richie's neck and inside of his coat. Richie yelped like an injured dog and rolled away, Stan lying flat on his back and laughing.

“If I get fucking hypothermia, it was nice knowing you.” Richie grumbled, displeased about being very cold and very wet in a number of places that he didn't want to be. Stan pulled himself into a sitting position, still giggling.

“I win, and that's what's important.” He said, looking quite happy with himself as he got to his feet. He offered a hand down to Richie. “Come on; I'll get you some dry clothes to wear.”

“Would you still date me if my nipples froze and fell off?” Richie asked, accepting Stan's hand and also getting up. Stan thought for a moment.

“No.”

“But it was your fucking fault!”

“Get stronger nipples.” Stan responded flippantly, and Richie burst out laughing. They started back towards Stan's house, the sky now dark, the only lights around them a mixture of street lamps and strings of illuminated Christmas decorations. Stan had confided in him the previous year that he quite liked fairy lights, and true to his word he was looking around the lit neighborhood as they went, pointing out houses that he particularly liked. The colors of the decorations reflected off Stan's wet cheeks, his eyes alight. Richie reached into his jacket pocket, curling his fingers around the long jewelry box.

“Hey. Hey Stan.”

“Yeah?” Stan asked back. His voice was distracted, his eyes looking across the street.

“Who has curly hair and the cutest boyfriend in the world?”

For a moment, Stan didn't answer. Richie was expecting “you do”, or maybe even a “me” if Stan felt like it. He got neither.

“...Beverly?”

“Wait, what?” Richie did a double take. “You have the hots for Ben now?”

“No, no, look.” Stan pointed, laughing a little. They were passing Ben's house, something Richie hadn't noticed in the dark, and the light in Ben's bedroom was on. “Beverly is in Ben's room. Do you want to say something?”

She was in there, the two looking to be slow dancing around Ben's room. On normal day, Richie would be all about embarrassing the couple, but now he was feeling a bit put out.

“Nah, he's probably trying to be romantic. It is Christmas Eve, after all.”

Stan didn't seem to get the hint. Richie refused to let the day end before telling Stan he loved him, looping his arm through Stan's as they continued towards his house.

“Could I spend the night at your place?” He asked. Stan fixed him with a look.

“Are you going to give me a hickey?” He asked back. His bluntness made Richie grin. “Because this isn't my college dorm. I'm staying with my parents during winter break, so I really am trying to stay decent. I only have so many turtleneck sweaters.”

“No promises.”

“Seriously, Richie.”

Richie considered lying, finally deciding against it.

“C’mon Stan. You know I'm going to give you a hickey.”

To Richie's surprise, Stan smiled a bit, tugging lightly on his arm.

“Good. Let's go.”

Spluttering out half attempts at words, Richie stumbled along after his boyfriend. They made it back decently quickly, Stan offering up some sweatpants and a blue and white knit sweater.

“These should fit you, right? We're about the same size.”

Richie tugged it all on, noticing that when he extended his arms, the sleeves rode about halfway up his forearms.

“Your arms are a little shorter than mine.”

“Maybe my arms are perfectly normal sized, and you're just a gangly freak.”

Richie grinned, watching Stan's hair get squished down and poof back up as he pulled a sweater over his own head.

“Staniel the Spaniel, from one teenage boy to another, you have no room to call me gangly. Your legs go on for days.”

Stan smiled. “I'm taking that as a compliment.”

Richie was warming up quickly, happy and comfortable in Stan's clothes, in Stan's kitchen, trying to put together some dinner. It was relatively late by the time they’d eaten and cleaned up after themselves, wrapping up in blankets and getting comfy on the couch. They fell into conversation, and by the time Richie's attention was brought back to the necklace he'd meant to give Stan, it was only a couple of minutes from midnight. He let out a loud sigh.

“What?” Stan asked.

“I just… I had this really great gift to give you today.”

Stan blinked in surprise.

“You did?”

“Yeah! I didn't want to give it to you on actual Christmas, because Christmas isn't your thing and stuff, but I found it too late for Hanukkah. I know I could wait until New Year's or something but I'm just too excited about it. So I was going to give it to you today. It's a little late now, though.”

“I accept gifts any day of the year.” Stan said matter-of-factly. “You can still give it to me, Richie. I won't be upset.”

“But you wouldn't even let me kiss you. I've been trying all day!”

“...you have?” At Richie's completely unamused expression, Stan laughed. “Rich, your tongue is not a gift, no matter how many times you say it is.”

“It was a present.” Richie insisted. “A real, actual present.”

“Then just give it to me.” Stan said. “But… Could it wait just a few moments longer? It turned midnight just now, and I have a Christmas present for you, actually.”

“Oh?” The gesture surprised him, watching Stan untangle himself from their swamp of blankets and retreat in the direction of his room. When he returned he had his hands behind his back, looking a bit nervous but smiling all the same, Richie struck all over again by how much he loved him. Stan curled back up in the blankets, handing Richie a small square box with a red bow on it.

“Here.”

Richie took it reverently, nerves curling in his stomach because this looked like a ring box, and he had no idea what that could mean. He opened it slowly, revealing a simple band of silver metal, a pattern engraved all around it. The ring was beautiful, and Richie told Stan so.

“It’s…” Stan began grinning, biting down on his bottom lip. “It's a promise ring.”

“Oh.” Richie couldn't raise his voice more than a whisper. He was glad he was sitting down for this, his body feeling weak with surprise and a deep sort of happiness that almost made him feel like crying. Stan took a deep breath.

“Richie… You are an asshole, sometimes. A jackass, one that never shuts up, and keeps fucking winking at Eddie's mom, and sometimes acts so stupidly that I'm surprised you're still alive.”

Richie gave Stan a bemused smile.

“I thought this was going to be a nice present.” He said, and Stan smiled too, exhaling before continuing.

“When I first started dating you, I thought that I liked you despite all those things, but I don't. I love you because of those things, along with your shower singing voice, and the way you get freckles all over your nose in the summer, and how much you like sour candies, and how loyal you are to the people you love. It's everything that makes you who you are. I wanted to tell you that I love you, but I also wanted something to go with the words, so you knew how much I meant it. Because I love you, Richie.”

For once, Richie didn't want to speak. He didn't have a great track record when it came to talking during emotional moments, and if he ruined this he would never forgive himself. Instead, he took the ring from its box and slipped it on his left ring finger. He couldn't help his surprise.

“It fits. How--?”

"Remember the day I told you I was picking out some new earrings for my mom?” Stan asked. Richie nodded. “We actually went because I knew that as soon as I told you not to touch anything, you would try on every ring in the store. I used that to figure it was out."

Richie laughed a little.

“Oh Stanley, you vindictive bastard. You… You really had this all planned out, huh?”

Stan gave him a sheepish sort of smile, shrugging.

“Yeah.”

Richie leaned towards him across the couch, finally getting the kiss he'd been wanting all day, wishing that the simple touch could convey everything he was feeling, all of the thankfulness and happiness and love. Before he'd met the Losers, Richie hadn't known he could even be loved at all. But with Stan's hands holding his, pulling back to rest his forehead on Richie's own with a smile on his face, Richie he felt so much love he thought he might burst from it. He played over Stan's words in his head, realizing something and looking at Stan in surprise.

“Wait, all that stuff you just said… You like me for my personality?”

Stan chuckled, reaching over and inspecting the way the ring looked on his on hand.

“Yeah, I was surprised too.”

Richie laughed and Stan curled a hand in his hair, pulling him close. Stan's whole body was soft and warm and Richie felt a confession threatening to come from his lips as well. He was ready to say it, necklace and entire plan be damned, when Stan leaned away.

“Didn't you say you had a gift for me too?”

“Right!” Richie jumped up, excited energy in his chest as he ran to the front of the house, pulling the necklace from his jacket pocket. He hid the box behind his back as he returned, jumping and landing lightly back in his seat.

“Sorry that I didn't wrap it.” He said, handing it over. “I was just too excited to give it to you.”

Stan opened the jewelry box, his mouth opening slightly as he examined the necklace, picking up the little bird at the end of the chain.

“Richie, it's so pretty, I…”

“You always complain about there being no birds in the winter.” Richie explained. “I wanted to give you one somehow.”

Stanley took the necklace from its box and put it on, the small silver bird resting against his chest. It looked prettier on him than Richie could have imagined, and the words started coming from his mouth before he realized it.

“Stan, when I first kissed you we were seventeen and a bit drunk. I did it on a dare, and I also kissed all of the other Losers that night, so it wasn't really the perfect first kiss a Disney prince like you deserves, but it happened.”

Stan laughed a little at the Disney line, looking curious about where this was going. Richie swallowed, continuing.

“I thought it wasn't going to mean much, honestly. But before I knew it, it was nearly six months later and I couldn't stop thinking about it, or about you, so I asked you to go to a movie with me. It was the worst fucking movie in the whole world, probably.”

Stan nodded, laughing.

“Double Dragon.” He said. “It was shit.”

“I'm glad it was so bad though.” Richie said with a grin. “If it was actually good, you wouldn't have wanted to make out with me in the back of the theater the whole time.”

“True.”

Richie took Stan's hands, wanting to do this right. Wanting to say this right.

“And now we're here, and I'm the happiest person in the world, and it's all because of you. So I wanted to tell you, for the first time out loud--because trust me, I've been thinking it for a while now--I love you, Stanley Uris.”

Stan didn’t respond. He just pulled Richie close, holding him, kissing him, Richie unable not to laugh at the clumsiness of the actions as noses bumped and fingers got a little tangled, all of the blankets making their movements slow. Richie’s lungs were tight for air when Stan pulled back.

“That isn't the first time you've said it out loud, though.”

“What? I’ve… I’ve said I loved you before?” Richie had been sure that it wasn’t yet public knowledge. “When?”

“You've been talking in your sleep for two weeks now. The actual first time was on Bill's couch, when you passed out in my lap watching The Sandlot. That's the first time you told me you loved me.”

“Oh.” The whole group knew, then. Richie found he wasn’t even embarrassed, laughing. “I wasn't drooling, was I?”

“Only a little.”

Richie opened up his arms and Stan got better situated on the couch, resting against his chest.

"We crossed a bridge here, Stanley." Richie said seriously. "You do realize that, right?"

"What are you talking about?" Stan asked. His expression was hesitant, as though unsure if he should be concerned or not.

"I'm going to tell you I love you every day now. I've got to."

Stan groaned, letting his head fall back. Everything about the action suggested annoyance, but there was a smile on his lips when he looked over.

"Are you saying I gave you an excuse to talk more? More than you already do?"

"Hey!" Richie exclaimed. "You opened up this can of worms, now lie in it."

Stan laughed at the misuse of phrase, pressing his face into Richie's shoulder and snuggling close.

"I might just have to say it back, then." He said, almost like a threat.

"You'd better."

Stan chuckled a bit, Richie pressing a kiss into the mess of curls on his head.

“Merry Christmas, Richie.” Stan told him, his voice quiet. Richie laughed.

“Happy belated Hanukkah to you too, boyfriend. Boyfriend that I love. Lover boy. Lo--”

“Oh my god, shut up.”

“Make me.”

Stan tilted his head up easily, meeting Richie's lips with his own, and Richie wrapped his arms around him, warm and happy and completely content.


End file.
